Road To Joy
by zmwester
Summary: Dean awoke from dreams of Hell, panting and shaking. He steadied his nervous breathing and wished with all his might that he had someone there to comfort him. WARNING: SLASH
1. Chapter 1

Title: Road to Joy

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Spoilers: 4x16

Warnings: Oral sex

Disclaimer: They belong to Kripke, no matter how much I wish they belonged to me. There are some Bright Eyes lyrics mixed in here too, since this fic was inspired by the song, "Lua". I changed the tone a bit. Conor's song is about not caring for someone, but I used his lyrics to convey caring deeply about someone. Anywho, everyone go listen to Conor Oberst and love him like I do. :)

Summary: Dean awoke from dreams of Hell, panting and shaking. He steadied his nervous breathing and wished with all his might that he had someone there to comfort him. Night after night with the horrible memories of Hell seared into his mind. All the pain, and no one to help alleviate it.

**Chapter One**

**What Is Simple In The Moonlight**

Dean was tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of **everything**. His mind was screaming for him to just **rest**. His body was near collapsing of its own accord, with or without his permission. Most of all, his heart had endured nearly all it could take without ceasing to beat. The realization that he was the cause of the apocalypse, that he had been destined to fail and torture souls in Hell, and being reacquainted with the heinous creature that lived inside of him was just too much. He would never forgive himself for the acts he had committed while he was in Hell. He had thought he was past all that, he was Dean again, not the monster that Alastair had trained so well. Not the version of himself that enjoyed bringing pain to others, because it made his own pain more bearable. And as sure as Sam was the size of a sasquatch, Dean was harboring his fair share of pain. With every slice and every scream, he could release some of the anger and pain he had festering inside his heart. While in Hell, Dean fully understood how nice people became demons. The things you did when you were there, the things you saw, the things you were forced to endure; it would mutate even the purest of souls. The torturing had become a sick, twisted sort of therapy for him and now that he was back on Earth, he had to face the horrible things he had done.

Dean awoke from dreams of Hell, panting and shaking. He steadied his nervous breathing and wished with all his might that he had someone there to comfort him. Years and years of traveling and sleepless nights. Night after night with the horrible memories of Hell seared into his mind. All the pain, and no one to help alleviate it. He craved someone to lose himself in, someone to make all the memories of the slicing and tearing of the flesh go away. Someone to purify his body and mind. Sure, he wanted to just fuck the pain away, but more than that, he needed someone to wake up next to, just once. Someone to hold him and tell him it was okay. _Not gonna happen, just suck it up_, he thought. He turned over and was startled to find Castiel sitting on the other side of the bed, watching him curiously. Dean leapt from the bed, holding his arms out in front of his body in defense mode.

"Oh no you don't. Last time you showed up on my bed in the middle of the night like this, you worked some of your time machine magic. Why are you here, Cas?"

Castiel rose from the bed and walked toward Dean angel placed his hand on the scar on Dean's shoulder, his fingers slipping into place perfectly, for it was his mark. Dean felt a surge of lust, devotion, and vulnerability wash over him almost as soon as Castiel palmed the scar. It made Dean dizzy and punchdrunk. "Dean, I am connected to you. Because of the bond that was welded between us when I pulled you from Hell, I can see inside of you. I see your pain, I see what you dream about," he paused and lurched forward, crushing Dean with a desperate kiss. Dean's body melted into the kiss that he had secretly waited months to feel. He was powerless against this, because his body and heart needed it so badly. After breaking the contact of their bodies, Castiel whispered, "I see what you need most right now, and it is this."

Dean chose to ignore the twinge of pain inside his heart, because he hated it when someone knew he was vulnerable. He chose to allow his hormones to take hold of him. His body needed the contact and he would not deny himself this. Maybe it wouldn't heal him, but it would mask the pain for one night.

They fell together on the cheap bed, the mattress too firm to really be comfortable, but it served its purpose. Dean had slept on far less comfortable surfaces in his many years as a hunter. But, who was sleeping anyway? This was not the time for sleep, that would come much later, and to Dean's surprise, it would be the most peaceful sleep he would ever experience. Now was the time for primal urges and the desperate grinding of hips. Anything to make the pain inside his head and heart cease.

It was a curious combination of rough kisses and heavy breathing. Ripped shirts and moans of desperation. Once they were freed from the confining clothing, Dean had a chance to really admire the vessel that Castiel was inhabiting. He studied the defined muscles of the vessel's chest and stomach, the pale skin that screamed purity, and of course, the God-given gift he carried between his legs. He didn't even know anything about the man whose body he was about to use to quell the flow of pain in his heart. He felt a pang of guilt , but that quickly disappeared as Castiel brought the vessel's mouth up to meet Dean's in an animalistic kiss filled with one thing: need. Dean kissed back with fervored lust, exploring the luscious cave of Castiel's mouth that tasted of honey and sunshine. It was the purest and most delicious thing he'd ever tasted in his entire life. The feeling of the other man's body pressed against his own was intoxicating. Dean had to have his hands all over the angel. He ran his hands down to rest on the other man's hipbones, which jutted out just enough to tease him. All his thoughts turned to those hips, and how he needed his hands on them in a different position. Breaking the kiss, Dean slithered down Castiel's body, pausing every few inches to kiss lightly and dart his tongue out, tasting the salt-slick sheen on Cas' abs. Castiel was watching him with wide eyes, not sure what would come next, but feeling an unexplainable urge to grasp Dean's hair and push him downward. He resisted the urge, just barely. Dean licked and nibbled his way around Castiel's hipbones, causing Castiel to writhe and wimper below him. When the sounds spilling from the angel became too much, when he could wait no longer, he suddenly took all of Castiel into his mouth. He choked a little, instantly regretting not allowing his throat to relax. He gagged, and much to his surprise, the sound seemed to excite Castiel. The angel bucked his hips upward into Dean's warm mouth and Dean smiled inwardly at the thought of someone as powerful as Castiel being overpowered by the immense pleasure. His throat relaxed, he gripped Castiel's hips, and he found the perfect rhythym to send the angel over the edge. Being new to such sensations, Castiel did not last long. Dean had just begun to hum, deep in his throat, when Castiel gripped his hair tight and cried out in Enochian, spilling down the back of Dean's throat. The guttural and primal sounds bursting forth from the angel's mouth overwhelmed Dean and though he had been rutting his own hips against the bed furiously, he came without warning. He had not expected it to all be over so quickly, but, for the first time in his life, he didn't mind. He used his ripped shirt to clean himself and the bed as best he could, before finding his place on the mattress next to _his_ angel. Castiel snuggled up next to Dean, buried his head in the crook of Dean's neck and whispered, "I know you have a heavy heart, I can feel it when we kiss. You wanted this, but tomorrow you will deny it. You expect me to leave as soon as you fall asleep, because it's all you know. You always leave women, but this is different. You need me to stay and you are terrified that I will leave you."

Dean squirmed uncomfortably at the painful truths Castiel was whispering to him so matter-of-factly. He could feel the small blooms of warm kisses on his neck, as Castiel continued, "But I am not a 'gamble', as you would say. You can count on me. I will be here in the morning; I will be here always. I will never leave you, unless it is what you truly desire."

Dean's heart swelled with something like love, but he didn't want to admit that he loved Castiel. Anyone he loved was doomed and he would not curse this being who had given him everything. Castiel had pulled him from Hell, he had given him a second chance. Instead of telling Castiel that he never wanted him to leave, that he needed him more than anything he had ever needed, or that he wanted nothing more than to lie in that stupid, cheap bed with him for all of eternity, Dean just kissed the angel, hoping that Castiel could see inside his heart at that moment. Of course, Castiel could see it all, but he also knew that things would not be so simple in the morning. He savored the kiss, fearing that it would be the last. He broke the kiss reluctantly and placed his finger to Dean's temple, whispering, "Sleep, Dean." But Dean didn't hear the broken, ragged, and barely audible whisper shortly thereafter, "Please love me in the morning."

Dean slept the ten most peaceful hours of sleep that his body and mind had ever known.

**What is simple in the moonlight, by the morning never is.**

**A/N: If you want a second chapter, let me know in the reviews! I have ideas, but I want to know that you guys are interested in hearing the rest of the story! 3**


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Road to Joy

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Spoilers: 4x16

Warnings: None, really.

Disclaimer: They belong to Kripke, no matter how much I wish they belonged to me. There are some Bright Eyes lyrics mixed in here too, since this fic was inspired by the song, "Lua". I changed the tone a bit. Conor's song is about not caring for someone, but I used his lyrics to convey caring deeply about someone. Anywho, everyone go listen to Conor Oberst and love him like I do. :)

Summary: Dean awoke from dreams of Hell, panting and shaking. He steadied his nervous breathing and wished with all his might that he had someone there to comfort him. Night after night with the horrible memories of Hell seared into his mind. All the pain, and no one to help alleviate it.

**Chapter Two**

**The Reasons All Have Run Away**

Dean awoke with a sleepy grin plastered across his face, feeling more rested than he ever had in his whole life. He could feel the warm halo of arms around his body and his heart skipped a beat as the events of the night before slowly poured into his mind. The taste of Castiel, the exhiliration of giving in to his most desperate desires, and the whispered promises. He wanted to bury his head under the pillow and disappear into oblivion, instead of face the angel who was holding him like he was the most precious thing in the universe. On the other hand, he wanted to lie in that bed as long as the world kept spinning, surrounded by the angelic warmth that was Castiel. Unfortunately for Dean, neither of these were a viable option. There were things to hunt, demons to exorcise, and that pesky breaking of the 66 seals business with Lillith. The world would not wait to be saved, and no one else was going to save it if Dean didn't. There was no time for bliss, no time for hiding; only time for war, blood, and pain. This was the only life Dean Winchester could ever understand.

The night with Castiel had been a fluke, a false sense of security. Dean had a void to fill, and the angel had been caught in the crossfire of his hormones. Dean tried desperately to talk himself into believing these lies. The lies were easier to live with than the truth. What exactly was the truth? Castiel made Dean feel healed. All the pain he carried within himself, all the resentment, all the self-loathing; none of it existed when the angel touched him. It was such a simple action, just a touch, and Dean felt every shred of insecurity melt from his body. The feeling was addicting, which made Dean feel even more vulnerable, therefore more resentful of the night he had spent with the angel. He racked his brain for a way to pretend it never happened, but he knew it would be of no use. There was no shrugging this one off, no sir. This was not as simple as leaving behind stunt chick number two. He didn't think he'd ever say it aloud, but he really, truly felt a connection to Castiel that prevented him from making this a one-time, 'thanks for the ride' kind of thing. He knew he would eventually have to give in to the inevitable chick flick moment and discuss the previous night's events with the angel, but he just couldn't face that terror head on at the moment. It would end ugly if Castiel pressed the issue before Dean was ready and Dean was terrified that was exactly what was going to happen. He comtemplated getting out of the bed, but found it almost impossible to talk himself into leaving the safe haven that was the cheap motel mattress. If he could just lie there silently for a few more moments, to savor the feeling of utter contentment, the feeling of being precisely where he belonged...

"Dean, I know you are awake, please say something."

Dean's body jerked involuntarily and he cursed under his breath. He would have no such luck today. Of course the angel knew he was awake. Cas had probably been lying there the whole night, staring at Dean and watching him sleep, like some creep. He moved away from the angel and searched frantically for his clothes, chastising himself silently both for the shirt ripping from the previous night and for the empty feeling in his chest when he could no longer feel the heat of Castiel's body against his own. When he stood, he was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was completely naked and _hard. _Feeling ashamed, he slipped on his boxers quickly and disappeared into the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him, making sure to lock it. He turned on the shower and gripped the edges of the sink, slowly tilting his face up to meet his own worried reflection. He knew Castiel would not follow him; he had bought a little time. As the steam from the shower billowed behind him and began to cloud the mirror, Dean wished that he could vanish into the cloud of condensation. He would have to settle for a scalding shower, sure to wash away the debauched thoughts of the feel of Castiel's sweat-slick skin against his own, the intoxicating scent of the angel's breath, and the bitter-sweet taste of the angel sliding down the back of his throat. Dean slapped himself and shook his head furiously. Revisiting the memories of the night were not helping him make any progress, and would only cause him to perform similar lewd acts once he was in the shower. He needed to be clean of the feelings, he needed to scrub and scrub until he could make the pain go away. The pain, the confusion, the lust. It was eating him alive. He removed his boxers and stepped into the soothing waterfall of heat. The water droplets pounded on his shoulders and he felt his muscles relax. There are few things in the world that a nice, hot shower can't fix. Even if the problem wasn't really solved, Dean was at least feeling a little more at ease. That would undoubtedly help him worm his way out of a sappy, tell-all moment. As he massaged the shampoo into his hair, he tried to distract his mind with anything he could. He made little circular patterns on his scalp, trying to give all his attention to the sensation. It was of no use. His mind wandered aimlessly and much to his dismay, every route in his brain led back to the angel waiting for him in the adjacent room. With a heavy heart, he turned the faucets and sighed heavily. He toweled himself, brushed his teeth, and slid back into his boxers.

Dean emerged from the steamy room, scrubbing his hair with a towel, and being careful to avoid eye contact with the angel. He could feel Castiel's eyes boring into him and he knew he wasn't going to get out of this one easily, so he did the only thing he knew to do. It was wrong, it was a lie, but it was easier than the alternative. He pretended that it was nothing, that it meant nothing, that it could have been anyone, and that Castiel wasn't the one being on this earth who made his knees quiver by the mere thought of him. Continuing to avoid eye contact, he stuttered out a weak attempt at blowing off the whole situation.

"So, uh. About last night. Thanks for being in the right place at the right time." He could feel the bitter sting of the words as they rolled off his tongue and his mind was flooded with a little voice screaming _Liar, liar, liar! Tell him the truth, you coward._

"You are welcome Dean. I came here to comfort you and I was surprised to find my own brand of comfort in being with you. I think I should thank you for showing me what brings you pleasure, so now I can help to bring you peace more often."

Dean felt vulnerable and exposed. He couldn't handle hearing the angel say something so meaningful, especially not now. He was broken and he needed Castiel, but he was not going to have it thrown in his face, no matter how sugar-coated and utterly sincere it was. Dean Winchester would never admit that he needed help. He'd rather die. Without realizing what he was doing, he lashed out at the angel.

"I don't need anyone to come and take care of me, Cas. I'm fine. Last night, I was just...I wasn't myself, I was out of my head, and you were there. And you served a purpose. And...I don't want to fucking talk about it. Just drop it."

Castiel sighed deeply and shook his head in frustration. "I don't understand why you are so insistent on denying yourself the things you truly desire, Dean."

"I. Said. Drop. It."

Dean felt the stinging rush of air on his bare chest from Castiel's sudden departure and cursed himself inwardly for being such a jerk. It didn't matter that the reasons for his intimate contact with the angel had all fled, because the feelings he harbored would never leave. He may never tell _his_ angel the truth, but his heart was sure of one thing: Castiel was the one true and beautiful constant in his life and he never wanted to lose him.

**The reasons all have run away, but the feeling never did.**


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Road to Joy

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Spoilers: 4x16

Warnings: Character Death

Disclaimer: They belong to Kripke, no matter how much I wish they belonged to me.

Author's Notes: Forgot to mention this last time, but many, many thanks to my wonderful friend Meredith for helping me figure out how Dean and Cas would argue the morning after. She saved me from ditching this story in the second chapter.

Summary: Dean awoke from dreams of Hell, panting and shaking. He steadied his nervous breathing and wished with all his might that he had someone there to comfort him. Night after night with the horrible memories of Hell seared into his mind. All the pain, and no one to help alleviate it.

**Chapter Three**

**What Makes A Man**

When did he realize that he loved Castiel? Dean could pinpoint it quite easily, actually. It was the most simple and adorable thing he'd ever seen. Castiel was curious by nature, so when he and Dean were alone, he would ask lots of annoying questions about typical human behavior. One morning, Dean was brushing his teeth over the motel's kitchen sink, while Sam was showering in the bathroom, and Castiel approached him, questioning his actions. Never one to pass up a good laugh, Dean pulled out a spare toothbrush and taught Castiel to brush his teeth. Watching the little nerdy guy spit, sputter, and gag on the toothbrush was enough to have him doubling over with laughter. Like a parent with a child, or a man watching the person he loved more than anything in the world, Dean watched with adoration and reached out a hand to help guide Castiel. It was that spark he felt when their hands touched. The feeling of _**home**_. Whether he had been ready to admit it to himself on that particular day didn't really matter anymore, because he was going to admit it to Castiel as soon as he was finished with this hunt. It was a run of the mill haunting, so Dean figured he could finish it up within a day and then meet Cas somewhere and have the dreaded chick flick moment that they both desperately needed. Honestly, it was all he could think about.

Maybe that's where it all went wrong. Dean wasn't entirely sure how it happened. Maybe he didn't have his head in the game because he was lost in thoughts of the angel's warm, velvety tongue and the feeling of it caressing his own. The thoughts of the very pronounced, rather teasing hipbones begging to be gripped. Yes, that is defintely where it all went wrong. Dean couldn't fully focus on the task at hand because he was swirling through a sea of fantastically pleasing memories of Castiel and wishes for the outcome of their next encounter. The ghost was haunting a family who owned waterfront property and it seemed to be luring them to the lake at night and drowning them. After getting the backstory, he discovered that the previous owner's child had been drowned in the lake. An angry spirit, no big deal. Dean searched for some sort of remains to salt and burn, and after some investigating, he found the boy's favorite baseball cap that he had been wearing the day he drowned. His father had buried it near the lake. When Dean attempted to dispose of the hat, he was suddenly attacked by the ghost. The little boy pulled Dean into the lake and held him under the water, while laughing maniacally.

Dean was drowning and everything was black. He couldn't breathe, his lungs were aching for air. His last breath had been used in a gasp. That last precious breath of life was wasted in a silly gasp of surprise. How he wished he could have used his last breath to inhale the sweet scent of Castiel, just once more. The intoxicating scent of rain, lightning, and something like honeysuckles. He would have cherished a chance to have some sliver of happiness as he was buried alive in the pain. Part of Dean wished it would just hurry. If it was going to be today, _just get it over with_. Just let him die and feel no more pain. He turned his eyes toward the heavens and prayed for divine intervention, because giving up completely was not the Winchester way. He might have been powerless, but he was going to use his last, best chance at life, even if it meant doing something he'd never done before. Dean Winchester prayed to God for the first time in his life.

The scenario shifted almost instantly. The ghost pulled Dean out of the water and flung him ashore. Gasping for air, Dean rolled over onto his side and curled up into the fetal position. His lungs were burning with each breath he drew and his limbs were heavy due to his soaked multiple layers of clothing. Without warning, Dean felt a strong kick to his back. His body jerked and he cried out in pain. The ghost had given up on the drowning, choosing to beat Dean mercilessly. He grabbed a fistful of Dean's hair and slammed the hunter's head onto the ground repeatedly. Dean tried to fight back, but it was of no use. With each thud on the ground, he inhaled mud and grass until he was choking. His mouth tasted of iron and earth, his vision was blurred and nearly blackened again. He felt a sharp blow to the back of his head and knew it was almost over. There was a warmth spreading on his head and neck, and he felt dizzy. This was the last of it, the ghost had won. He wondered if the praying had really even mattered at all. Just as Dean was about to lose conciousness, he felt a strong hand grip his right shoulder, turn him over, and _cradle_ him.

Castiel arrived too late to save Dean. He was lying on the ground, broken and bloodied. Cas flicked his wrist in the direction of the ghost boy and he disappeared instantly. Castiel swept the man into his arms. There was so much blood and the back of Dean's skull was pouring a continual stream of it. If he was still alive, Dean would not last long. The angel prayed for his chest to heave, his eyes to twitch, _God, please any sign that he's still alive_. Almost instantly, Dean smiled and softly whispered, "Cas."

Castiel held him close to assure Dean that he was there and he would not leave him. He opened his mouth to speak, but Dean cut him off.

"It was the day you were brushing your teeth over the kitchen sink. That was the day I knew. "

Castiel cocked his head slightly, remembering the day clearly. It had been one of those days where he forgot about the boundary between an angel and his charge. A day when Dean was more than just a mission. He was a friend. Maybe it had been more than friendship, really. He remembered how Dean had clutched his midsection, laughing furiously at Castiel's feeble attempt to carry out such a trivial human task. How Dean's face had lit up like fireworks, the genuine smile stretched across his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and there had been something else lingering in Dean's eyes that day as well. Something Castiel couldn't quite put his finger on, but it was intense and so unlike any emotion he'd ever seen painted across the broken hunter's face.

_How had it all come to this?_ Castiel was overcome with terror, for the first time in his existence. He needed more than anything to tell Dean that he loved him, as much as an angel could love anyone who wasn't God. He needed to pull the hunter close and promise him that it would all be okay. He could do neither of these things, because Dean was gone. He had lost too much blood before Castiel even arrived. It was almost as if a higher power had kept him alive long enough for him to confess his love to Castiel. The hunter had died in the angel's arms and Castiel discovered a new emotion at that moment. Anger. Rage. He was dangerously close to falling. Too many emotions, too much of an attachment to his charge. Castiel did not care anymore. He laid Dean's lifeless body on the earth and looked up to the Heavens.

"Why would you take him from me? I have given so much, I have done everything you have ever asked of me. I have been a good soldier!"

Castiel hung his head in despair and allowed a choked sob to escape his mouth, before turning to Dean and taking him into his arms. With a blink, they vanished.

#####

Sam stood in the doorway, dumbfounded, when Castiel arrived with Dean in his arms. Castiel placed Dean's body on Bobby's couch and turned to face Sam with a solemn look etched upon his face.

"Is he...is he...dead?" Sam could barely force the words out of his mouth, because he wanted so badly for the answer to be "No".

With a nod, Castiel replied, "There is a way to bring him back. I'll do it. It's my fault he's dead. I'll do it."

"Well, how? I'll help."

"My grace. I can transfer it to him and he will live again."

Sam's eyebrows shot up and he stuttered, "Castiel, are you- are you sure you want to lose your grace? I mean, won't that make you...human?"

"Yes. A small price to pay to have him back, don't you agree? I suppose it is the equivalent of him selling his soul for you, but I won't face Hellhounds for my choice. Only the burdens of a mortal life and having to endure pain. But that pain is nothing compared to what we would all experience without him."

Sam furrowed his brow and frowned before agreeing, "If there is no other way, and it's really what you want..."

"It is my decision to make and **he** will **always** be my choice. Sam, please leave the room, you will surely be blinded if you look upon either of us during the transferral." Castiel faced Sam with pure determination and devotion plastered across his face. Sam nodded in agreement and touched Dean's shoulder before exiting the room.

**What makes a man pray, when he's about to die?**


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Road to Joy

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Spoilers: 4x16

Warnings: Oral Sex.

Disclaimer: They belong to Kripke, no matter how much I wish they belonged to me. I snagged some lyrics here. Chapter title is from a Paramore song. The lyric Cas remembers is from the Asia song "Heat of the Moment' - a personal favorite of mine. :)

Author's Notes: Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me until the end. Thank you for your reviews, they make my day. :) Also, thanks to my friend Meredith, who listened to me talk myself through how Cas realizes he loves Dean. Hehe. Love you, Sketch!

Summary: Dean awoke from dreams of Hell, panting and shaking. He steadied his nervous breathing and wished with all his might that he had someone there to comfort him. Night after night with the horrible memories of Hell seared into his mind. All the pain, and no one to help alleviate it.

**Chapter Four**

**I've Got A Tight Grip On Reality**

Castiel laid Dean's lifeless body on the bed and took a deep breath to steady himself before the actual transferral of his grace to the eldest Winchester's body. He knew without a shadow of doubt that this was what he wanted, but he also knew that nothing could prepare him for the pain he would feel. The act of ripping out one's grace was not meant to be a simple task by any means. There were several reasons angels did not dare to perform the act, but the nearly unendurable pain was high on the list. Castiel had chosen to omit this bit of information during the exchange with Sam, not wishing to give him another thing to worry about. His brother was already dead and he was going to have to take in the fact that the Winchesters' last angelic sliver of hope was about to become a mere mortal. Castiel did not relish the fact that he would soon be powerless, but he knew that this was the only way he could go on living. With all the angelic powers in the world, he would still be an empty shell without Dean Winchester.

Castiel remembered the moment he realized that he had officially stepped over the allowable emotional boundaries between an angel and his charge. The moment he began his slow fall from grace. The air was so cold that anyone breathing in the night would feel as though his or her lungs were being pierced with each intake of oxygen. There were stars illuminating the sky in curious patterns and it was one of those nights when anyone would have been able to sense the evil lingering in the atmosphere. They were hunting a demon and before Dean had a chance to really react, she had them both at gunpoint. Being the selfless guy that he is, Dean had immediately shielded Cas from the bullet when the evil bitch fired a shot at the angel. It made no sense to Castiel. Dean was fragile, he was human. Why would he shield Castiel from a simple bullet? A silly, man-made object that would do no damage to an angel, but could take Dean's life in a flash?

Music has the most unique hold over our emotions. It's impossible to explain, and also impossible to escape. Dean inherited his love of classic rock from his father. It made him feel empowered and macho. Mostly, it made him feel more like the man he idolized so much. Anytime Dean heard the beginning of the song "Heat of the Moment" by Asia, his blood would begin pumping and he would have an uncontrollable urge to bob his head in rhythym with the beat. When he played it in the Impala with Castiel there, the only part that stuck out to Cas was _**A look from you and I would fall from grace. **_The lyric had stuck with him because he knew the exact look that this singer had mentioned. He had seen it plastered across Dean's face before he made the jump to use his body to 'save' Castiel from the bullet. It was sheer terror. Not terror for his own life that was so easily disposed, but terror for the thought of losing the angel. The hunter's face was painted with an expression that screamed 'Not him! Anyone but him!'

_Dean never even stopped to consider his own life. It was like he couldn't live without Cas. _

As he cradled the injured hunter, after exorcising the demon, the angel was in awe of the things he could see in Dean's soul. There were the ugly scars of anger, pain, confusion, self-loathing, and guilt. But amidst all of that, there was a spectacular beam of purity, love, and genuine selflessness. An honest desire to save the world; even the people who might not have deserved being saved. There was something in the broken man that restored Castiel's faith in humanity. He had never seen anything so beautiful inside a human. The angel could feel a painful tug on his grace and he gasped. He knew it would happen at some point. It was inevitable now. It was no longer a question of "_would_ he", but a question of "_When_ would he fall for Dean?"

The angel drew himself from his memories and tried to focus on the task at hand. Despite all of the pain he would undoubtedly endure in the coming moments, Castiel could only smile. He thought fondly of the smile that it seemed like Dean reserved specifically for the angel. The little moments when Dean would catch his eye and flash his brilliant white teeth, narrow his eyes slightly, his eyelashes flickering playfully, and bite on his bottom lip for half a second. Castiel was not aware of what the smile meant, but he was aware of the fact that he had only seen that particular look on Dean's face when he was looking at him. If Sam had noticed, he'd never mentioned it, but he certainly would have known that the emotion behind the act was a love so deep that even Dean couldn't fully flesh it out yet. The angel placed a soft kiss on the hunter's forehead and proceeded to rip his grace out in a roar of light and pain.

#####

Castiel was lying next to Dean, panting and clutching his chest. It was over, Dean should be fine, but Castiel felt like he wanted to die. The pain was almost too much to handle. Every breath felt like someone was stabbing his lungs, and his chest ached as if someone had grabbed hold of his heart with an iron fist and ripped it out. Every fiber of his being wanted to pass out, but a raspy voice in his ear removed his attention from his own pain.

"Cas. What - are you okay? Wait. I-I died."

Castiel nodded solemnly and replied, "That is correct."

"Am I in Heaven?" Dean looked around the motel room with a little glimmer of fear in his eyes. Then he met Castiel's gaze with a smirk painted on his lips. "Cause I gotta say, if this is Heaven, I feel like I pulled the short straw. This is kinda lame, Cas."

Castiel felt a bubble of laughter build in his stomach and was surprised by how suddenly it escaped his mouth. The feeling of his abdominal muscles contracting and his head swimming with a rush of endorphins was almost overwhelming. All of these were signs that he was now a human, just like Dean. The body was no longer a vessel, it was his home. The human soul inhabiting it was now gone and replaced with Castiel himself. They were now _his_ muslces, _his_ emotions plastered across the handsome face - _his_ face. His heart paused for a moment as the realization hit him.

Dean laughed too, his body feeling lighter with the sensation. He sat up on the bed and faced Castiel. The light and pleasing feeling of laughter left his body immediately as he studied the other man. His body went rigid and he suddenly felt anger. Castiel wasn't an angel anymore. How Dean knew with just a look, he couldn't even comprehend. He just _knew_.

"What did you do?" Dean's voice was almost a growl.

Castiel's laughter ceased and he avoided the hunter's eyes. He didn't have to see him to know that Dean was livid. Without emotion he replied, "I made the only decision I could live with."

Dean jumped from the bed as though it were a hot iron and threw his hands in the air yelling, "Dammit Cas! You gave it all up for _me_? To save _me_? What the hell is _wrong_ with you? I'm nothing, Cas. **NOTHING!** How could you do that? I can't live with that. Did you stop to think about that at all? I am nothing to this world! I'm just some pissed off dude saving people because it's the only good thing I can do. You had so much more to offer the world. Why Cas, _why_ would you throw it all away for _me_?"

Castiel rose from the bed and faced the man he loved, who was almost in tears from the mere thought of Castiel sacrificing so much for him and replied, "You are so quick to chastise me, yet you sold your own soul for Sam in an instant. That's not fair. Dean, do you remember when you told me that if I sent you in that room to torture Alastair, that I would not like the man who walked back out? You were wrong. With all the anger, pain, confusion, and self-loathing that you harbor- I have seen inside your heart. I know that you are a good man. A better man than many. Despite all the emotional trauma you have endured, you still genuinely care about other people. Your day is never done unless you have saved someone-"

"I'm not a hero, Cas! This is my job, it's what I do. It's all I can do, and I owe it to the world to save people, especially after what I did in Hell."

Castiel shook his head in frustration and scowled at the hunter.

"You see Dean, that is your own blindness. This is not your **job**, you don't **have** to do this. You do not have to live in a car, eat greasy burgers, shack up at the occasional motel, and most importantly, you don't **have** to spend every day of your life fighting evil. You **choose** it, and that is what sets you apart from the rest of the world. Even from the hosts of Heaven. We could never be as courageous as you. You are a fragile human, your life is dispensable, you are _mortal_, but you gladly throw yourself into situations that could take your life in an instant, all to save people you don't even know, people who will never even say 'Thank you'. You **are** a hero, Dean Winchester. "

Dean scoffed at Castiel's speech and rolled his eyes. Castiel stepped forward and slid his hand up Dean's sleeve to lay his hand onto Dean's right shoulder, fingers slotting perfectly into place with the scar. Dean felt as though all the air in his lungs had escaped. Castiel was no longer an angel, but the effect was the same when he touched the scar. It wasn't just an angelic bond. Castiel had bonded their souls when he had given Dean that scar.

The blazing green met the crystal blue and both men forgot about the argument.

All that mattered was that Castiel was here, he was real, he was tangible. Dean would have time to deal with the whole 'He gave up his angel mojo for my sorry ass' nonsense later. This was about appreciating what he had and not screwing it up anymore than he probably already had. The truth was, Dean didn't feel like he deserved Castiel, which was one more reason to hold on tightly to what he had right now. He was beginning to wonder if it was all a dream. No one could really feel this way about him. It just wasn't possible. Dean captured Castiel's lips, licking his way into the other man's mouth, desperate to taste him, to be rooted in the present. As he felt the Cas' tongue exploring his own mouth, he knew it couldn't be a dream, because that taste was too strong. Castiel tasted sweet and pure, like honey and sunshine. Dean moaned into Cas' mouth and pushed his body so it was flush with Castiel's. He was craving friction of some sort, but he didn't want to rush this. He wanted to savor every moment, because this time everything had changed. Castiel had given Dean life twice now, and the second time had cost the former angel his grace. Dean didn't believe there was anything he could give the other man to ever make the fall worth it, but he was going to begin by making him feel things he'd never forget.

Castiel kissed Dean as though he was the only source of oxygen in the room, like each precious meeting of their lips was the only thing keeping him alive. Dean growled low in the back of his throat as he pushed Castiel onto the bed, removing the horrible trenchcoat in the process. Not to say that the trenchcoat itself was actually horrible; it was just that the stupid thing was one more awful layer seperating Dean from the radiating heat of Castiel's skin, which he was very anxious to taste. Free of the coat, Castiel was more agile and he quickly helped the hunter out of his shirt, while admiring the smooth expanse of pale skin that was Dean's chest and stomach. As Castiel ran his fingers across Dean's stomach, he could hear the sharp intake of breath and the clenching of the lean muscles beneath the silky skin. He leaned his own chest up to meet Dean's and buried his face in Dean's neck, biting lightly at the throbbing jugular vein. The hunter grunted and rubbed his denim-clad erection against Castiel. The intensity of this tryst was going to kill them both if they weren't able to lose a few more layers of clothing. Dean wrenched himself away, removed his pants and proceeded to remove the remainder of Castiel's clothing. Once they were both completely naked, they both took a moment to admire the sheer beauty of one another. Castiel studied every scar and freckle, wanting to memorize the map of Dean's body, as Dean took in the winter pale skin, a nice contrast to the onyx hair on the former's angel's body, the light flush on his skin from arousal and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. For just a moment, each man was in awe of the other, unable to grasp the truth of the situation, both thinking they were in no way worthy of the beautiful gift in front of them. Dean smirked at Cas and fell to his knees when he was unable to wait any longer. He leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to Castiel's hips, following it with a hard bite, sure to leave a small bruise. Castiel had marked Dean for everyone to see, and before the night was over, he wanted to leave a few marks of his own. Dean trailed his fingers along the sharp jut of Cas' hipbones and licked a line up the length of Castiel's erection, before taking all of Cas into his mouth. Castiel had felt this sensation in the past, but that was before this body was his own. It had just been a vessel at the time. Sure, he could feel things then, but it was almost muted. The way a person would experience the feeling of touch when covered with a thick glove. This was new, amazing, and mind-blowing. As Dean's skilled tongue and the warm cave of his mouth swallowed Castiel, he couldn't stop his body from rising to meet the pleasure. His hips bucked into the other man's mouth and Dean's gag reflex kicked in. He made a choking sound, alerting Castiel and causing the former angel to cease his movements. Dean's tear-filled green orbs met Cas' smoldering sapphire ones and he gave his a lover a thumbs up to signal that it was safe to keep moving. Castiel suddenly became entranced by the view of the hunter's pouty lips, slick with spit and pre-come, wrapped around him. He had never witnessed anything that caused such a deep burning sensation in the pit of his stomach. He almost forgot where he was, or hell, even who he was. Dean grew tired of waiting and took matters into his own hands. He literally took all of the other man into his mouth, until his nose was touching the soft raven tuft of hair, inhaling the musky scent, and nearly drowning in the pleasure of hearing Castiel come undone beneath him. Castiel took the hint and allowed his body to thrust of its own accord, sending shivers down his spine each time he felt the back of Dean's throat close around him. It was almost more than he could take; the sensation, the sound of Dean moaning around him. He was blinded but the white-hot pleasure coursing through him as he looked down to see Dean's head bobbing furiously in his lap. That had been the thing to send him completely over the edge. He exploded into the hunter's mouth, crying out his name. He fell back onto the bed, his chest heaving, allowing Dean to milk his orgasm out of him. Dean did just that, until Castiel was twitching in his mouth from the over-sensitive nerves being teased. The hunter slowly released Castiel, swallowing and wiping his chin clean as he worked his way up onto the bed. He sank down next to Cas and pressed a kiss to his forehead, smirking a little at the already shallow breaths that were a tell-tale sign that the former angel was about to enjoy his first post-coital nap. He pulled Castiel into his side, their bodies flush, radiating heat and sliding a little from the sweat. Castiel sighed and nuzzled into Dean's neck, sticking his tongue out to taste the salty tang of Dean's sweat. He whispered into the hunter's neck; a thank you and a promise for things to come, as soon as he could regain his strength. Dean laughed,poked Cas in the side and said, "Oh, your ass is mine, angel boy. Just wait." Understanding the implication behind the joke, Castiel laughed and snaked his arm over Dean's belly, making sure to brush his hand against the other man's achingly hard erection. Dean gasped at the contact and his hips bucked off the bed, chasing the hand that had teased him. Castiel snickered and slid down Dean's body, deciding that sleep was overrated anyway.

#####

The next morning Castiel was practicing brushing his teeth, alone. He thought fondly of the days when he wanted to learn such trivial human things, out of pure curiosity. He wondered if part of him always knew it would come to this. He was always going to pull Dean Winchester out of Hell, watch over him, fall in love with him, and ultimately fall _for_ him. If this had been his destiny, he was grateful. However, after last night, he no longer believed in destiny. He had been given a choice to make, and he chose to give his grace to the snarky and broken hunter he believed to still be snoozing in the motel bed. He now believed in free will, and he was grateful for that. Lost in his own thoughts, he never heard Dean sneak up behind him, so he was startled when the hunter gripped his hips and twisted him around to ambush him with a kiss. Dean kissed him like he was the most precious thing on the planet, cupping Cas' face in his hands, with the corners of his own lips slightly turned up, fighting a smile. Castiel tasted of spearmint and **Heaven**. It didn't matter that he was no longer an angel. He was the closest thing to Heaven Dean would ever taste, touch, smell, see, or hear. And he was the most beautiful example Dean could ever have requested. The dishelved tuft of raven hair that was jutting out in all directions, the electric blue eyes that had read Dean's heart with such ease, and the husky voice that made Dean shiver, right down to his core. Dean was thankful that the angels had been willing to lose this perfect piece of Heaven, because he didn't think he could ever live without it.

**I've got a tight grip on reality, but I can't let go of what's in front of me here.**


End file.
